"
I well knew it was not possible to contradict Saveliitch, and I allowed
him to make ready for our departure.
In half-an-hour I was in the saddle on my horse, and Saveliitch on a
thin and lame "_garron_," which a townsman had given him for nothing,
having no longer anything wherewith to feed it. We gained the town
gates; the sentries let us pass, and at last we were out of Orenburg.
Night was beginning to fall. The road I had to follow passed before the
little village of Berd, held by Pugatchef. This road was deep in snow,
and nearly hidden; but across the steppe were to be seen tracks of
horses each day renewed.
I was trotting. Saveliitch could hardly keep up with me, and cried to me
every minute--
"Not so fast, sir, in heaven's name not so fast! My confounded
'_garron_' cannot catch up your long-legged devil. Why are you in such a
hurry? Are we bound to a feast? Rather have we our necks under the axe.
Petr' Andrejitch! Oh! my father, Petr' Andrejitch! Oh, Lord! this
'_boyar's_' child will die, and all for nothing!"
We soon saw twinkling the fires of Berd. We were approaching the deep
ravines which served as natural fortifications to the little settlement.
Saveliitch, though keeping up to me tolerably well, did not give over
his lamentable supplications.
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